"I added a word of advice about the ape's bite, for which I received some choice Dutch blasphemy." "What was the advice?" "To allow me to apply a white-hot poker to the wound. The bite of an ape is a nasty thing." "And what was the reply?" asked Dick. "Stripped of the cursing, it was to the effect that my gentleman could make better use of a hot poker than to burn himself with it. Excuse me from repeating the precise terms: they were not in the best taste." "Give him to understand that he will be removed to the lock-up, where he will be strongly guarded, and committed to Lincoln to-morrow." "And you will give order that his hurt be looked to, will you not, Squire?" I put in. "Why, in Heaven's name, should I concern myself about his rascally carcase? Why you should, God only knows." I certainly did not know; but, nevertheless, a sort of pity had filled me for the wretched man, who had lost so much; love, above all, health, as his bloated face and body showed, his money, as I suspected from his threadbare garments, and every remnant of gentility and self-respect, as he proved by look and word and tone. Poor soldier of fortune though I was, I had infinite wealth in comparison. "Well, be it so," said the Squire. "I will send for Tankersley." Then Vliet burst out into a torrent of oaths in English, and the Squire bade John and me return to our friends, while he took measures for the safe custody of the prisoner. When we had satisfied the curiosity of our friends, and the Squire reappeared, the festivities went on again. After the King's health had been drunk, the Squire wishing him "wiser counsellors," my old friend made a speech about me, in which he said far more than it would be decent for me to write, even if I could remember it all. But some of his words dealt with the state of things in the Isle, and are, in my judgment, well worthy of remembrance.